And When Your Heart
by London Romance
Summary: One-sided Shawn/Cory. "And when your heart's bleeding from the crossfire…well, that was normal, wasn't it?"


_A__ND WHEN YOUR HEART._

"_And when your heart's bleeding from the crossfire…well, that was normal, wasn't it?_"

ONE-SIDED CORY / SHAWN.

**A/N **This won't be canon, mostly because I haven't watched Boy Meets World in forever and forgot everything. I YouTube'd it out of the blue one day and just felt like writing this. You can think of it as AU to assuage your inner critic, if you'd like. Hope you enjoy and please review!

* * *

You look at them and wonder. How did they do it? This…false perfection.

Actually, you wish it was false. Because then you'd have hope. And, well, that's as rare as anything gets. I mean, you cling onto his sunshine because it's a life source. And plus, you just thought of that sentence.

These are desperate times, my friend.

He's got it made. And you have to work to even get halfway to his oblivious wonderment.

Really, hope never suited you. You lived in a trailer park. Your grades were shit. And you didn't care. That was your biggest downfall. And here everyone was, telling you how none of it mattered as long as you _try_.

Well, you did try. Mostly for him. He encouraged you and that big, goofy grin became your motivation.

You were a witness to the sickening thud of your heart on the floor and your mind flying out the window. Oh, and their relationship. Whatever.

It hadn't happened.

It hadn't happened.

_This was just a test_.

Here were the facts – he asked, she answered, the date was set for 8:00, Thursday (he only remembered because Cory had called him at 7:50 and panicked over how all his sweaters looked like something Minkus wouldn't even _touch_) and clearly, it had went well enough for them to dive into one of the most dangerous battlefields of all – teenage romance.

Shawn was exaggerating. All his peers were justified to moan about how their boyfriend lacked enough tact to get them chocolates on Valentine's Day or groan about their lack of a boyfriend who forgot to get them chocolates on _any_ day. He was, of course, referring to the vapid girls with too much make-up and too little clothes whom he usually associated with. Not her. Not the ridiculously gifted girl his best friend was "blessed" with that got her chocolates and ate them too.

He wanted chocolates.

But he hated chocolate.

He wanted the whole shebang.

But he hated love. (_He_ ruined it for him.)

And she got it all. Well, him, anyway.

And Shawn was left with nothing.

Well, no, that wasn't true. He had Cory. This fact caused him more grief when he realized that all he really had was Cory and that was all he really wanted.

Stop.

Breathe.

"No, really," you say one day. It could be any day, but every other day, you're not asking - "What makes her so special?"

Cory had to think about it. He really had to consider this shit? Didn't people like them, the happy-go-lucky, "we endure problems every day, but our strife only lasts thirty minutes" know this crap off the back of their hand?

"I…huh. Well, she makes me happy."

He stared. "I make you happy."

"Well…yeah. But you know…Topanga-"

_Is a girl._

_Is the person you've been in love with since _forever_._

_Is everything you're not._

"Topanga's just…everything."

Shawn hangs his head. A pause. "Forget I asked, okay?" he says softly. He runs out and collapses somewhere near the park.

Honestly, why did he bother? He didn't have to. But he did, and he knew why. But it was better to just leave that kind of stuff on the cutting room floor, pick it up one day, ask, "_what happened_?" and cry over regrets. (He likes regrets. They reminded him of this bitter rage he could bring out and everyone would blame it on his upbringing. They would pull out all this info on how "_statistics show_…" (crap he didn't care about).)

All they knew was that he was angry and fed up with Cory and his cloud nine Shawn wanted to ruin by telling him how reality worked.

But there was the beauty in dreams. He dreamt this every night, without fail - Cory was floating on his cloud nine. Shawn climbed onto his best friend's cloud and sat down. Cory smiled his big, goofy grin. Shawn's stomach didn't flip over and his brain wasn't fuzzy. His spine didn't tingling like some lame Spiderman joke. He tells Cory that he couldn't live in this fantasy world of the All-American boy he was in love with anymore. Cory looked confused. _Shawn, in love with _him_?_

Shawn cried. Yes, yes, _yes_, he was. With everything he had and everything he lacked. But the good thing was that Cory was everything he wasn't. And maybe, everything he wanted to be. But he had Cory, so it was okay, because he could be amazing for the both of them. But pretending love didn't exist was his way of forgetting the topsy-turvy flip-flops his stomach adopted after that one day when Cory said he loved Topanga for the twentieth time and the jealousy got so old, so fast. And then he did some thinking. He concluded so – there was no one like Cory and he was so, so glad that he had him in his life. (No homo.)

And then…well, he started noticing things. Like Cory's grin and his cheery attitude. And the way he could understand Shawn without hesitation. And how he acted with Topanga when they thought no one was watching. And…he wanted all of that. But he couldn't have it.

So, here it goes. His last hurrah.

And then Shawn fucking rejects him, like he would never do. And Cory cares.

Well, he said it was a dream.

Cory finds Shawn crying, gasping for breath. And he asks if he's okay. Shawn doesn't think he really needed an answer.

He tries to talk to him.

"Please, Shawn…I'm sorry. What did I do?"

Shawn looks at him with red eyes and says, "Nothing."

And he leaves, but looks back.

Cory is still there, staring at the ground confused.

And Shawn felt happy about that. (But not really.)


End file.
